Terminal
by Sam the Wise
Summary: You know how Netherlands smokes his pipe all the time? I got curious; what would be the side effects of such a thing? This happened. No summary because I thought that was a pretty good explanation. K for just a bit of blood.


Near the fall of the sun as a signal that the afternoon was slowly becoming the evening - and what a warm evening it was - the house of a particularly jovial spaniard was quite active - and loud. "Ahhh, well I have... errands to run, places to see and things to do. Busy busy!" Antonio, as he preferred a more human sounding name when away from formal occasions, was to go off on another one of his 'adventures'. Belgium, or Bella as Lars had begun calling her (she refused her real name, and he didn't know why), was happily waving the crazy spaniard off.

"Don't worry! We'll keep the house clean until you return! Won't we, brother?" She turned to face her brother with an affectionate smile reserved for him only. He shrugged and grunted his agreement, which was apparently enough for her. These days, Bella didn't need much to tell what others wanted or thought. A trait Lars occasionally envied. If he cared to have more than one friend, that is.

Upon hearing the sound of the door slamming shut, as was Antonio's style, Lars jumped up out of his 'grumpy chair' and made to leave the room, only to be stopped by Bella's hand around his wrist. "What's wrong?" She seemed to have noticed his obvious downcast expression and tired eyes. Not entirely unusual, but today he looked exceptionally worn. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, which themselves seemed dull, and his posture was unusually bent for his character. If that set off any warning bells in her mind, she made it obvious. "Lars?"

Lars pulled his arm away from her and growled something unintelligible from around that terribly annoying pipe he always had. The thing always got in the way of conversations. And for whatever reason, she never seemed to be able to get rid of it! Normally in a case such as this, when Lars refused to speak to her, she'd use the sisterly charm and stern motherly persuasion of hers to send him to the same chair he'd sat in before Antonio left. Spain had oh-so-helpfully named it Lars' 'grumpy chair', and from then on, it became something of a... time out. It didn't seem to bother Lars much, but it made Bella feel satisfied.

"Nothing. Go away."

"Lars if something's wrong you need to-"

"I don't need to do anything. Leave me alone." Disturbed, Bella nodded and lowered her hands away from him, while he left to his room. This behavior from him was unusual, and it almost worried her. Yes, Lars could be incredibly boring and too serious, but never like this. This was definitely a warning sign that something was wrong, and no matter how subtle it may have been, she had picked up on it. Determined now to settle this, she waited until she heard Lars' door shut before making her own way up to his room, her mouth set in a thin line upon her scowling face and her hands curled into small fists.

She pounded on the door. No answer. She pounded again. Still no answer. Undeterred, she tried the handle, only to find that it was unlocked and... wet? She didn't bother to look down at what had coated the handle, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

There, against the window on the far side of the room, sat Lars, knees bent with his right hand covering his mouth. His eyes were shut tight, tight enough to hurt, and he trembled ever so slightly, just barely enough that she could see it. "Lars?" He startled and looked up with wide eyes. And the sight was enough to make her gasp.

His bare hand was coated in a thick red substance, and dribbling down his chin was the same. Without a second thought, she rushed to him with her handkerchief, dabbing away at what she now realized was blood. Mixed with something else she couldn't quite recognize. Lars didn't resist, though he did groan and mumble at her to stop. His eyes were half open and glazed, and he wheezed in pain only to be interrupted by a bout of sick sounding wet coughs that Bella knew were not normal.

"Lars what happened? What's going on?" She had his chin gripped in her hand in an attempt to force him to look at her, though he looked blind to the outside world anyway.

"W-where's... where is it..." Lars' words sounded breathy, like he was expending too much energy and could barely garner enough to breath properly. "My..." She knew what he meant without him having to say it. That damned pipe that he loved so dearly. Sometimes she thought he loved it more than his own people.

"No." At her words, he stared, blankly, then scowled.

"What? You have to... you have to get it... give it..." He had a look that said please, begging almost, but she didn't buy it and remained firm. She shook her head and released his face from her grasp to find the pipe. It was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, the tip also covered in sticky red blood. She retrieved it, but didn't hand it over.

She held the pipe at eye level for him and looked at him pointedly. "Lars, are you going to tell me what's going on?" And at her urging, he nodded tiredly, resting his head against the glass of the window.

"Infection. I thought... it would go away. I thought it... was only temporary. But it's..." he paused to take another wheezing breath, "Still there. Worse, maybe..." He swallowed thickly and lowered his eyes to avoid her terrified expression, her wide eyes that bore horror and confusion. Her brother was hurt. All this time, and he never told her! But she couldn't get mad, not matter how betrayed she felt.

"How long..."

"What?"

"How long has this been going on?" She was cleaning off the tip of the pipe, her front teeth biting deep into her lower lip until she tasted the metallic tang of her own blood. Lars closed his eyes and sighed.

"Two years, g-give or take." His response drew out another gasp from Bella. Two years? How? Was that even possible? She stuttered out incomplete sentences and words that didn't go together, her eyes watery and close to tears. Why would her brother hide something like that for so long? How could you just... forget something like that? She didn't understand, and had so many questions - and angry words - for her older brother. She held herself back and remained calm.

Working her jaw, she spoke. "Why, Lars? Why would you hide something like this? Don't you trust me?"

Lars looked surprised and shook his head. "No, no! I-I trust you I... I just didn't-" another shaky breath, "-didn't want to worry you. A-and... I thought I would get over it... but." He shifted uncomfortably on his perch, swinging his legs over the edge so that they brushed the carpet of his room. "I visited doctors, once. They said it wouldn't, uh, they said it wouldn't go away. It's permanent." How else was he to describe something like that? Bella suddenly broke down in tears and fell to her knees, his pipe and her handkerchief held tightly to her chest.

"Oh Lars... I should have paid more attention, I should have..." She was shaking her head fervently, accompanied by dry sobbing. "Oh Lars..."

Lars delicately removed himself from the window and got on his knees in front of her, placing the one hand that wasn't smeared in blood on her shoulder. He remained silent a while before coming up with the words he wanted to say. "They said it can be... held off for a few years at the most but..." Bella's head shot up and she practically snarled, eyes red and wide and mouth wide open to create the most livid expression Lars had ever, in all his life, seen her wear.

"It's TERMINAL?!"

He nodded and sat back, arms loose at his sides and head tilted upward so he stared at the ceiling. "There's nothing I can do now, Bella. I'm sorry." His breathing came easier now, but his energy was completely depleted, and now he just felt tired. Bella sat there sniffling quietly and musing over the outcome, wondering how things may have gone differently had she been more receptive to Lars' suffering. But she understood that nothing could be changed now, and that reality hit her like a ton of bricks, each weighing a hundred tons and all thrown with the hope of maiming her. She was emotionally, and now physically, drained, and could do little more than enjoy her brothers presence.

"We'll take care of you, Lars. I promise." And she would. It wasn't often that she went back on a promise.

* * *

**A/N: Sooo... what do you think? I'll leave it as incomplete in case I decide to continue it. If you'd like me to continue, please let me know! As usual, please review or give constructive criticism. It helps!**

**~ Sam**


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